That Beat
I still look for
that beat my father drummed
on the steering wheel of the family car.
A percussionist by passion,
pharmacist by education,
he was a toe-tapping pill counter.
I look for that missing rhythm
in hip-hop and acid jazz,
classic soul and trip-hop.
I drum my fingers ferociously
trying to remember,
trying to conjure up my childhood
from the memory of
that beat my father drummed.
February 15, 2008